


Attention Deficit Archivist

by Kaiserkorresponds



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Caretaking, Gen, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker Friendship, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Has ADHD, Light Angst, Mentioned Sasha James, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Neurodivergent Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, One Shot, Protective Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:47:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27076747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiserkorresponds/pseuds/Kaiserkorresponds
Summary: "Jon?""Right, erm, yes." Jon snapped his focus back into the present. "You were saying?""I was more asking, Jon." Martin frowned. "Are you-""Asking what?"----Jonathan Sims has ADHD, it's not typically an issue.
Comments: 38
Kudos: 330





	Attention Deficit Archivist

"Jon, are you, are you okay?"

Martin's soft voice cut through the silence. The interruption nearly startled the daylights of him as his thoughts ground to an abrupt halt.

"I, uh, I'm-" Jon stuttered. "What was the question?"

Martin's brow creased, "Are you alright?" He repeated.

His blue eyes had that look they always did when he was fretting, shiny with just a hint of paleness. It almost gave off the impression of the ocean. He liked the ocean, loved it really. The unobstructed view, the warmth of the sun on his skin, and the escape it had always provided. And the hyper fixation he'd had on it when he was younger that hadn't really ever-

"Jon?"

"Right, erm, yes." Jon snapped his focus back into the present. "You were saying?"

"I was more asking, Jon." Martin frowned. "Are you-"

"Asking what?"

Martin frowned deeper at the interruption.

He really hated it when Martin frowned, or when people did in general. The sting of disapproval was vicious, even from people he truly didn't care for, and it was always more painful than any paper cut he'd ever had. And he'd had quite a few, self-medicating with too much caffeine, or turning pages too quickly through files, or-

"I was asking if you're okay."

Jon made an off-kilter humming noise. "Of course I'm alright. Why wouldn't I be?"

There were so many reasons he wouldn't be alright. Not any that he liked to think about truthfully, but the weight of the list of wrongs laid heavily on him most days. Everything from his failure as an archivist, to the disapproval from his Grandmother over his gender, to the break-up with Georgie. Georgie, he should really send her a message. She had made it clear that she wanted to still have communication. It had been years since he had even reached out though and the offer could very well be rescinded.

"-and I've never seen you like this before."

"What was that?" Jon snapped his head up, clearly catching only the tail end of Martin's sentence.

Martin stared back at him with a distressed expression.

"I'm, erm, I apologize." Jon mumbled awkwardly.

It made sense that Martin would be disappointed. Everyone always seemed to be, from the teachers in elementary, to the stern librarian at the University archives, and especially anyone he'd ever dated, not that he'd ever made a relationship last longer than a few months.

"I'm getting Tim." Martin said suddenly.

"Right, for the, the follow up." Jon nodded, attempting to regain track of the conversation.

Martin hesitated for a second, emotion flickering quickly across his face. "Just stay here, alright?"

Jon nodded rapidly. Of course he could remain here. His office was typically the most tolerable section of the archives. No buzzing lights, or aberrant noises, like the beeping of the microwave in the breakroom. That was a truly irritating feature of the kitchen. Well along with the fluorescent lights. The flickery, erratic light from those was annoying in a way that scraped against his senses. And he really should be getting some work done. His typical mess of paperwork was a disaster, and he had that one statement that needed-

"Hey, boss. Martin tells me you're having a rough day." Tim's smooth voice came from the doorway.

Jon startled, twisting to look towards the sound.

Tim stood in the frame of the door, leaning casually against the wood, with the tips of his vans angled towards the desk. Martin stood only a pace behind, anxiously glancing between Jon and him.

"I don't recall telling Martin that." He said. Truthfully, he wasn't sure he would remember it if he had or not, but it made no logical sense why he would be telling Martin of all people about his day. No matter the state of it.

"I'm not sure you needed to say anything, Boss." Tim said, a slight frown forming on his face as well.

"The statement," Jon said suddenly. "You had a follow up?"

"Yeah," Tim said slowly. "Before we get to that, how about I ask you a few questions?"

Jon frowned. "I don't believe I asked you anything."

Martin made a soft, choked noise from behind Tim.

Tim turned, making a brief gesture towards him, before facing back towards Jon.

"I'm going to ask you the questions, Jon." He said, slowly and carefully neutral.

"Well, I suppose." Jon nodded. "You had, erm, the statement about the, the-"

"It's not about that right now." Tim curtailed.

"What is it about then?"

"I just need to know a few things, Boss."

Jon nodded skeptically.

"When was the last time you had something to eat?"

Jon frowned, his eyes unfocusing. There had been donuts in the breakroom yesterday. But he didn't like the breakroom, or donuts really. That was too long ago anyway, he had to have eaten since then. Maybe at the Cafe down the block. He used to go there when they had all been in research, they had had the best sandwiches, with spring greens and melted cheese, and -

"Jon?"

Jon snapped his gaze back to Tim. "I apologize, what was the question?"

Tim frowned.

Martin looked panicked behind him.

"Martin, do you think you could give us a sec?" Tim asked suddenly.

Martin made a series of unintelligible noises. "Are you sure?" He finally squeaked out.

Tim nodded, flashing him a reassuring grin. "It's just a minute, Marto. It'd be a lifesaver if you could grab our resident Jarchivist a snack and some tea though."

Martin hesitated for a second, then nodded, and his steps faded away down the hall.

"Alright," Tim straightened up in the doorway. "Jon, you got me?"

Jon nodded, shifting his gaze back to Tim's face from where it had wandered to the wall, or the doorframe, or was it the lamp? The lamp's glow was rather intense, far more than typical. He would need to look into that, it was possibly-

"Jon, buddy." Tim's voice was insistent.

"Yes, Tim?"

Tim nodded, almost to himself. "Have you taken your meds lately?"

Jon paused, mind going blank.

The silence stretched on for far longer than comfortable, until he finally blinked, making a vague wave of his hand.

"Thought so," Tim muttered. "How long's it been?"

Jon opened his mouth and closed it immediately. The last few weeks blurred through the forefront of his mind, numerous statements recorded, a phone call from a telemarketer that had interrupted an important email, attempting to remember which clothing he had already worn that week and couldn't be reworn before doing some form of laundry.

"A while." He settled on.

Tim nodded. "Alright. First things first, you're gonna have a snack, which you're gonna finish, and then we are finding Sasha to get a few of your spare doses. Got it?"

Jon nodded in return.

"Can you repeat that back to me?"

"I'm not five, Tim."

Tim chuckled. "Didn't say you were, Boss. Just want to make sure you're still here on Earth with the rest of us."

"Well, I am."

"Great. Now you know you're going to have to figure out what to tell Martin, right?" Tim asked, the seriousness returning to his expression.

"I know." Jon sighed, "I'll think of something."

Tim nodded. "I'd rally for the truth, he's not gonna be pleased if you keep going all space cadet on him with no explanation."

Frowning, Jon fiddled with the hem of his sweater, rubbing his fingertips over the ribbed material. A thousand scenarios raced through his head, from Martin laughing at his incompetence and refusing to complete requests, to being treated like a child, to being forced into daily check-ins, as if he was in fourth grade, newly diagnosed and suddenly a problem child rather than a daydreamer.

"Jon … Jon." Tim's voice broke through the torrent of thoughts.

Jon jerked his head up, stopping the stim abruptly.

"Take a breath. I'll buy you some time before he asks too many questions. Let you get a few doses of meds into your system before you tell him, alright?"

"Thank you, Tim." Jon exhaled, the automatic habit kicking in from years of therapy.

"No problem, Boss. Now Martin's coming back, he's got some snacks for you. Remember the plan, alright? Snack first, and then I'm gonna pop back by to get Sash for your meds. We'll fill your real script later but for now, just a quick release to get you back up to speed, got it?"

Jon nodded, preparing himself for the rest of the day.

And the eventual conversation with Martin about his neurodivergence.


End file.
